


And They Call This A Fairytale.

by CrackedCrown (TarnishedSilver_CrackedCrown)



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: 100 Drabble Challenge, Abandonment, Angst, Character Study, Faeries Are Obsessive, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Jareth (Labyrinth) Backstory, Jareth Is A Faerie, Jareth With Babies, Nightmares, Obsession, One Shot Collection, One Word Prompts, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Owl Form Jareth, Regret, Self-Hatred, The Author Regrets Everything, Unrequited Love, headcanon heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 18:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19481758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarnishedSilver_CrackedCrown/pseuds/CrackedCrown
Summary: A collection of Jareth-centric ficlets, for one of the many 100 Drabble Challenges on Tumblr. Written and updated in my spare time, for the sake of character-building and whatnot. Some chapters will be headcanon heavy.





	1. Baby.

❝ Now, you’re alright, little chit… ❞

Warmly cooed reassurance to the newest child of the Underground - wished away by _ungrateful_ family, left in the care of the Goblin King and his subjects. It was such a damned thing, every time, but…

Bitter thoughts were pushed to the background for now, replaced by pride and whatever semblance of parental drive he’d developed over the years. Frustration lingered, licking at the flames of a wicked temper — and this wasn’t the time for that, there was never really an appropriate time for this specific brand of that, so it was _promptly_ shoved down.

Shouting back at _screaming babies_ , no matter how agitating the circumstances, was useless — and this was hardly the dear speck’s fault in the first place.

Leather boots tapped sharply against dusty stone, quick steps bringing him to the little girl’s side. Scooped up with another aimless coo, she was smoothly spun into being cradled, held gently to the immortal’s chest. Slow, purposeful rocking on his heels - frequent frost melted away from mismatched eyes, expression softening into something far **kinder** than most would ever see.

Low ‘shushes’ were offered to sooth the child, gradually morphing into murmured lyrics from rhymes that many had forgotten; magic gently laced his voice, coloring the air between them with influential _calm_.

❝ _Baby dear, goodnight, goodnight… Doggie lies in slumbers deep… Hush-a-bye, my treasure bright…_ ❞

❝ _…Go to sleep, and never fear… Mother will call when morning’s near._ ❞

Several moments of this rare gentleness passed - during which he calmly stepped to perch in his throne, the girl still cradled in careful arms. Slowly but surely, the Kingdom’s newest addition seemed to settle down.

A small **smile** twitched at the corners of his lips, gloved finger lightly tapping her nose - to which he was granted an immediate giggle and a series of unintelligible 'baby noises’. Quiet, fond laughter rumbled in the King’s chest, voice dropping to a candy-coated whisper.

❝ There you are, sweet… You’ve no need to fret here. ❞

Not entirely true, perhaps, but in the case of small children…

Well, they really didn’t need to worry all that much.

❝ You’re going to be just fine. ❞

No matter the strangeness, and no matter the _harshness_ that befell some folk in this corrupt little realm —

These children were **not** something he sought to harm.

She would be perfectly fine, when the dust settled.

❝ _…Go to sleep, and never fear_ _… Mother will call when morning’s near._ ❞


	2. Romance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trials of obsessive romance.

Bittersweet smile twitched at the corners of the Faerie’s mouth, watching as the young girl spun herself in circles - feet unsteady in their careless delight across damp grass, a charmed laugh falling freely past faded red lips. The joy of time spent without worry, no matter the trials of other moments - ignorance of youth, bringing bliss to the simplest of things in life…

Crystal spun thoughtfully, twirled between gloved fingers as mismatched eyes watched the girl’s innocent cheer. She was… _something else_ , and perhaps these moments were not meant to be watched by a man she’d never met, but —

Spinning to a halt and removing that familiar play from her coat, deft fingers flipped to a page unmarked and always _remembered_.

_“But what no one knew is that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl…”_

Quotation spoken in a dreamy voice, eyes sparkling with something akin to **affection** as she hugged the book to her chest. Precious laughter and a delighted sigh, words meant for no one’s ears tumbling off her tongue.

_“The Goblin King… Ha, that’d be something, wouldn’t it?”_

Perhaps not, but who could really blame him?

It was her fault for being such a **romantic**.

* * *

_Sweet sixteen_ and far too naive — a baby wished away and a King’s hand forced into playing the **villain**. Perhaps if they’d met under better circumstances, had she been able to see the kindness that her presence had sparked from the _ashes_ of a cruel heart…

Maybe then, things could have been different.

Sanity slipping as bitterness overrode the sweetness he’d meant to show, sharpened teeth biting into his own tongue countless times in the matter of only a few hours. She was such a stubborn girl - _ungrateful_ and _careless_ , and for all the world, he wanted to see her **give up**.

_Take the gift. Have your dreams._

_Turn back. Forget about the baby._

Honey coated words never quite came out the way he’d meant them, frustrated cruelty twisting the meaning into something that - while tempting - wasn’t enough.

_Toxic peach_ bitten into without a second thought — it was her own fault for trusting that two-faced dwarf in the first place, really. A world created from the shattered remains of both their _dreams_ , the phantom of her King pulled her into a dance with every intent to keep her there. Perhaps not forever, but long enough —

_Have your dreams. Forget about the baby._

She looked as **lovely** as he’d known she would, dressed up in that white ballgown, the hallucinogenic world _sparkling_ around them as he held her…

What the Fae would have given, to have this all happen **without** the _magic drugs_ and _pretty lies_.

It wasn’t enough, and she didn’t permanently forget.

A matter of hours later, his entire world came crashing down.

**“You have no power over me.”**

Stone crumbling, the Kingdom left tattered by unconstrained magic as the girl and her brother were hurled back to their own realm. The King’s illusions broke apart, heart _aching_ worse than the formation of _shards_ —

And there they were, not so long later — his own _traitorous_ subjects, dancing around Sarah’s room after having been released from the looking glass _he_ had granted.

She _needed_ them, she wanted them there with her, and it wasn’t…

_It wasn’t fair!_

Childish statements.

At least _he_ had a basis for comparison.

* * *

Just barely an adult by human standards, Sarah no longer brought his play with her when she went to the park - preferring to keep it tucked away in her desk drawer.

_Out of sight, out of mind._

She didn’t **dance** anymore, either, and he hadn’t seen her so much as _touch_ a peach without cringing since the events of his Labyrinth.

Collapsing into the grass with a huff, bright eyes starred up at the dusky sky, a smile that almost looked sad curling across faded lips.

_"It’s just not the same…“_

Perfection - flawed mortality kept it from ever being close to true, but faux closeness was quick to corrupt an attached heart, twisting thoughts into something unusually kind. Uncharacteristically _forgiving_ , truly.

There was something about this girl, there always had been, and while he’d never quite been able to place _what_ …

She was right.

This simply wasn’t the same without the **faux romance**.

* * *

Prom Night.

Such evenings only happened once in a human’s life, and while he’d watched the darling girl fuss over getting herself ready - while he’d expected her to be leaving any moment…

She never did - opting to sit at her desk, lipstick slowly turned between anxious fingers, a small _pout_ forming on painted lips. He kept waiting for her to call her friends, cancel. To call one of his subjects, as she’d always been so fond of doing, and vent. To do _something_ other than stare into the looking glass she called a mirror.

It felt like far too long, in which nothing really happened, and the King couldn’t stand it. She should have been out there, dancing with those ignorant children and enjoying her life. No matter how much it still _ached_ to imagine, she should have been —

The flurry of wings brought Sarah from her own thoughts, though the action surprised Jareth nearly as much. He hadn’t exactly planned to make an appearance, certainly not such a _blatant_ one, in the girl’s life again.

And yet.

Window pushed open out of shock, more than anything - he didn’t think for a moment that she’d actually wanted to _see him,_ but…

Landing on her window sill, _talons_ latched against the ledge and feathers _ruffled_ with uncertainty. Abrupt head tilt, a low noise forming in the mystical owl’s throat before his real voice curled softly throughout her bedroom.

**❝ You’ll be late, Sarah. ❞**

It wasn’t _fair_ , and it wasn’t the same.

Perhaps if things had been different…

**It was her fault for being such a _romantic_.**


	3. Frightened.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fae Realms, an untold backstory, and the Goblin King's nightmares.

Stumbling through the seemingly blank abyss that he’d purposefully wandered into, the young Faerie let out a soft curse. Hands reached uncertain, searching for something, _anything_ solid to latch onto in this awful space between realms. Surely there had to be some semblance of _reality_ here. There weren’t dead ends, not really —

_Nothingness_ , that’s all those increasingly frantic hands ever seemed to find. What had began as frosty confidence had quickly crumbled into bitter determination, but even that faltered all too quickly.

_“I would never tell you to do something that I didn’t think you could handle, Jareth.”_

Tension coiled, chest tight as anxiety crept into an unsteady heart. Tripping over nothing, his own frustrated mutters the only thing present to break the persistent silence of that unforgiving void.

_Mother knows best._

Words that had once brought genuine reassurance — they were starting to bring little more than **doubt** to the younger’s mind, but that didn’t stop him from clinging to them, repeating the phrase until it was ground back into his subconscious.

_She wouldn’t ask you to do something that you couldn’t handle._

Repetitive statements — if only they had actually brought the comfort they once had…

Uncertainly twisted itself into knots, doubts clouding prior determination and leaving the little Fae’s hands trembling as they reached through the darkness. Something had to give, there had to be a proper path in this horrid place, he just had to find it —

How much time had even passed by now?

Days, weeks… Maybe worse.

He couldn’t have _guessed_ , not really.

_Faux hope_ — pushing past what had seemed like a mystical door, only to stumble right back into the **cold abyss** yet again. An empty realm, one of the spaces between two — he didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter. Either way, it was another _lost cause_.

Tears pricked unwelcome into mismatched eyes, quickly swiped away by shaking hands as knees finally buckled. Collapsed onto a floor that hardly existed, more akin to _solid darkness_ than it were an actual material, a soft sob caught in the boy’s throat.

How was he supposed to manage this?

_It wasn’t **fair**!_

At long last, that bittersweet confidence had properly cracked - crumbling like worn cobblestone into an emotion that, while he’d certainly felt it before, the creature had little experience dealing with.

Doubt was uncomfortable.

Anxiety could _suffocate_.

Fear…

**Fear** was crippling as _**iron**_.

* * *

Tangible darkness surrounded, an empty kind of pressure that left the man _choking_ softly on air that he didn’t even need. Spinning in startled circles, finding **nothing** beyond that old abyss, an ancient heart pounded in its rib-cage.

❝ No, no! ❞

Typically assured voice came out strangled, tears forming in eyes blown wide with panic. This wasn’t right, he shouldn’t have _been here_ anymore!

❝ Guards! ❞

_Nothing._

Gloved hands reached around, coming up empty as he’d known they would, and then magic sparked at shaky fingertips. Little sparkles of light, nothing that would cut through the void of this horrible place. Fingers snapped, trying to do something - _anything_ that would prove the present true.

His scepter. One of his crystals. Anything at all.

None of it would appear - sparks crackled only to fizzle back out, magic _short circuiting_ as though it had never properly developed.

❝ Muriel? Archie? For gods’ sakes, any of you! ❞

_Nothing._

Hand splayed out in front of himself, pressing to a wall that didn’t exist in an effort to form one. Even in realms where teleportation didn’t work properly, Fae Doors were supposed to open _anywhere_ —

Somehow, they wouldn’t now.

Fright quickly brought with it _desperation_ , voice cracking on panicked shouts.

❝ Sir Didymus! Hell - Ambrosius!? ❞

Remaining sparkles faltered further, emotion overriding his pathetic attempts at panicked magic. Tears fell down pale cheeks, the hope of that life having been reality quickly running dry.

_Had any of that… even happened?_

The memories felt **faded** somehow, but the emotions of them held true. Surely he could have dreamed up entire worlds, but not an entire _life_. This wasn’t possible. And yet —

Crackle, spark, flicker, **nothing**.

❝ **Sarah!** ❞

Alone.

❝ Hoggle! ❞

Panicked.

❝ **Mizumi!** ❞

Desperate.

❝ _Anyone_ , damn it! ❞

_**Frightened.** _

* * *

Dampened eyes snapped open as the King jolted awake, lurching up from the ball he’d curled himself into and nearly cracking his skull against the headboard. Borderline hyperventilation, breathes coming quick and short as a mismatched gaze frantically glanced around the dark —

Blurry vision, tears were quickly blinked away in an effort to steady it. Familiar walls, enchanted firestone glowing faintly from its usual place by the mirror, velveteen blankets tangled around himself…

Slowly, the reality of his bedchambers processed. Breath held until he was calm enough to _stop_ breathing for a moment, pounding heart finally beginning to return to its usual, uneven rhythm.

Countless lifetimes had passed, more realms than he’d bothered to keep track of had been home, and his time as the Goblin King was now centuries long…

_Another nightmare._

That chapter in an immortal life was over, contrary to the mind’s trickery - no matter how real these occasional evening terrors made it all feel again.

Swallowing down panic was easier said than done, but it was possible…

Diminishing the lingering, irrational _fright_ that had coiled into his system, that was another matter entirely.

**Fear was crippling as iron.**

When the ruler’s hands had _finally_ stopped shaking, he was quick to pull himself up from his bed - ornate cane appearing in one hand, crystal ball materializing in the other.

Childishly, there were a _few_ people he wished were there in those moments, but - for one reason or another - most were simply not an option. Even if they had been…

None of them were about to see _their King_ in such a state.

**Frightened.**


	4. Abandoned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A catalyst of abandonment issues.

His first taste of **abandonment** was like freezing rain in the middle of June.

Cold.

Jolting.

Miserable.

And entirely _nonsensical_.

❝ Where is Father, then? You’ve always said that he isn’t dead, but you haven’t told me why he isn’t _here_. ❞

The upset tone couldn’t have been lost on his mother, though it was overshadowed by frustration - sharp tongued even as a child, pale hands curling into fists at his sides. Wide, unmatched eyes starred up at the elder, head cocked pointedly to one side - ever akin to a curious _owl_ , albeit an irritated one.

Her sigh fell across the room quietly, lingering unnaturally in their kitchen before she swung her head in a vague nod. Acknowledgement, if nothing else, though he hadn’t been certain that he was about to get an answer.

_“He abandoned us, Jay. It’s as simple, and as complicated, as that.”_

Widened eyes blinked up at her, frown sharpening. There was a pang in his chest, an emotion he wasn’t certain what to _call_ , and then fingernails were biting into concealed palms.

❝ Why — ❞

The question cut short at first, the young faerie’s throat tight with upset. Surely there had to be some kind of explanation for something so - so nonsensically **cruel**.

A deep breath, shoulders bunching up like a bird’s wings curling into itself.

❝ Why would he do that? There has to be — ❞

_"There isn’t a reason, baby, not really."_

Mother shook her head sadly, offering a bittersweet smile. Her smiles were always hard to understand, contradictory and misplaced, and now was no different. Worse, even, because even ‘bittersweet’ didn’t quite describe the emotions playing in the older faerie’s gaze.

_"He left… He could have found a way to stay, but he didn’t. His excuses wouldn’t make you feel any better about it.”_

Nodding slowly, Jareth took in another breath, trying to force the tightness out of his chest. This didn’t… make any sense, but surely Mother knew best. If these so-called 'excuses’ had been _reasons_ , if they had been helpful at all, then she would have admit that. She would have told him that much, at least.

Their home felt too cold all the sudden, but the little Fae hardly cared. Hands slowly uncurled from prior fists, palmed bloodied by his own fingernails, and arms crossed tightly over his chest. Mismatched eyes focused on the tips of his own boots, having given up on trying to decipher the other’s expressions.

❝ …Is that why you’re always so sad? ❞

Hesitant words from an uncertain tongue.

_"Abandonment… is painful, Jay. That likely only somewhat makes sense right now, but…“_

It was her turn to hesitate, though the pause wasn’t nearly so long as her son’s had been.

_”…Someday, when you’re older, you’ll know exactly what Mom means by it.“_

He had thought, at the time, that he’d mostly understood his mother’s words - despite her comment that he didn’t. It _hurt_ , knowing that a father he’d never known hadn’t wanted to be a part of their lives.

Throughout the rest of his adolescence, the young faerie would ask for better explanations. None of it ever made him feel any better, not really. Perhaps that should have been a clue that Mother knew what she was talking about, but…

He’d still thought that he understood her.

Countless years passed, and he could have swore that he’d genuinely comprehended the _pain_ that sad woman had spoken of - warned him about, really.

Abandonment became a _staple_ in life, each a bit _more painful_ than the previous, but always, he’d been able to mostly manage it —

It wouldn’t be until one fateful summer in the _1980’s_ , lifetimes later, that he _truly_ understood what his mother had told him.

**Abandonment Hurt.**


	5. Stripper.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, I had to do *something* with this prompt - this isn't my fault.

Music with lyrics he didn’t care to listen to played throughout the space - lighting that alternated between a bit too flashy and purposefully dim, distracting and meant to set a mood that wasn’t quite achieved. The attempts were something, far better existed - this place wasn’t supposed to be fancy, wasn’t meant as anywhere worth remembrance.

Easy.

Cheap.

_Pointless_ entertainment.

Mixed drinks that he didn’t really recall what was in, tipped back to smirking lips - alcohol brought a pleasant, distant burn, carbonation leaving the room _weightless_ after a few. Vision blurred slightly, a low chuckle rumbling from a dead heart’s chest as focus returned to the stage.

Lovely girls, most unhealthy at a second glance — ( another sip of liquor, ignoring the details ) — moved in some faux time to the music, clothing dropped away from fragile skin and false smiles curling across painted lips.

The entire world was a _stage_.

Here, it was simply more noticeable.

Time passed in a vague haze, the King leaning back in his seat as thoughts grew less collected, actual emotions fading to the background — fizzling out into whatever **fake** joy was brought by the club’s halfhearted charms.

Nothing special, but the distractions served their purpose…

Lips curling into a careless smile, gloved hands brushing over barely covered skin to tuck cash into some pretty brunette’s bra. Cooed, misplaced compliments colored the air between them for several moments. Her smile didn’t match her eyes, and he was nearly certain that _his_ didn’t either.

❝ Have a place to stay tonight? ❞

_Out of line_ , colored by magic **darker** than necessary.

_"Got more money?”_

Leather-clad fingers curling sharply into her hip, body pressed forward to brush uncaring lips against her jaw.

❝ Obviously. ❞

This evening wouldn’t matter, and the days after it would matter even less.

He _probably_ wouldn’t kill her.

Strippers were already **unlucky** enough.


	6. Shame.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Faerie's new fixation, and the self-loathing that comes with that.
> 
> (The character of "Christy" is an OC of my partner's, to properly clarify / credit that.)

❛ You _swore_ that you wouldn’t do this again. ❜

Bitterness coated the thought, each and every syllable dripping with something _horridly_ similar to self-loathing. Far from accustomed to feeling anything even close to _guilt_ or shame, the emotions were uncomfortable - nearly as suffocating as the cause of it all.

❛ You don’t _want_ to do this again, damn you. ❜

Harsher still, but the snarled reminder did nothing to actually stop it. Head swung back to glare at his own ceiling, pointedly counting cracked stones in an effort to settle down and _distract_.

( One, two, three… )

There wasn’t anything to be gained from pining after a mortal’s attention.

( Six, seven, eight… )

These weren’t impulses to entertain.

( Nine, ten, eleven… )

There was no sense in any of this!

( Twelve, _thirteen_ — )

That, too, proved to be a rather _pointless_ attempt.

Right words, certain phrases just _slightly_ off-script out of what he could only presume to be cautious _belief_ , echoed. Practically rattling in the faerie’s skull, until he - yet again - gave up on tuning her out.

Mismatched gaze returned to the scene playing in his crystal ball, watching as the little blonde spun herself across the expanse of the park - a copy of _The Labyrinth_ clutched tightly in her hands. Eerily similar, despite key differences — that thought alone brought with it another recoil, stirred up **disgusting nostalgia** , worsening tension; countless, contradictory emotions.

Innocent laughter broke through that fluctuating train of thought, and a heavy sigh filled his throne room. Gloved fingers spun the crystal, head tilting to the side slightly.

Her smile widened; his nerves pricked.

❛ Why must you be so _damned_ endearing, sweet? ❜

The _precious_ thing spun in a lazy circle, feet striking dampened grass silently as bright eyes glanced around - as though ensuring that her games had remained without audience. A pity that they hadn’t, truly, but it wasn’t as though she needed to know that.

_“But what no one knew…”_

Half a second’s pause — a desperate hope that she wouldn’t use that line this time.

_“…Is that the King of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl.”_

Collapsing backwards in his seat, the King returned to a tense version of his typical sprawl - a low noise of frustration building up in his throat.

He did _not_ want to be attached to this girl, let alone **fall in love** with another insignificant mortal who would _never_ return those affections. These pretty fantasies, crafted up by young women who would only ever adore the _illusion_ of him…

Pointless, no matter how much they stirred up _bittersweet desire_.

Desire that couldn’t be _acted on_ in the first place, not in any real way. She wasn’t even old enough to be anything more than an infuriating want — _fixation_ keeping these thoughts from dissipating; _better self_ remaining well aware that nothing could be done about them.

That old nausea had bubbled back to the surface — an ailment that had never entirely made sense, and was promptly worsened by the horrid combination of _shame_ and _lovesick_.

Leather-clad fingers of a free hand curled, clutching at the backing of his throne until knuckles ached and magic sparked dimly in protest.

❝ Christy. ❞

Name spoken near breathless, choking on overwhelming emotions — compulsions slammed back into ‘check’ and head wildly shook.

❝ Stop. Talking. ❞

An order growled out to a young lady that couldn’t even _hear it_. The instruction was nonsensical at best, but that didn’t stop it from falling past frustrated lips. Mere seconds later, sharp canines were scraping into his own tongue instead.

Forcibly tearing his gaze away from the crystal, his head flopped back to stare at the ceiling once more. Her voice continued to echo from the mystical scene for several moments, recited phrases mingling with _precious laughter_ and the occasional dreamy comment…

❝ Enough. ❞

Abrupt and sharp, the word was snapped from a mouth already filling with sweetened copper. Crystal ball thrown away from himself in frustration, fingers snapped at the last second to make it vanish, rather than allowing it to _shatter_ against the nearest wall.

Silence lingered in the castle, thoughts spiraling — until the wetness of _blood_ dripping from his own frowning lips caught his attention. Tongue swept out to clean vibrant scarlet away, the rest swallowed down before it had a chance to stain anything.

  
He could still hear that damned girl’s voice in the back of his mind, lines of _The Labyrinth_ recited all too innocently, but there was nothing to be done about that.

❛ Ignore it. ❜

_Sickeningly_ , he couldn’t. Not entirely.

**❛ You should be ashamed of yourself. ❜**


	7. Green.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Passing moments of peace.

Rare peace found within the confines of a secluded part of his realm — through the twisting paths beyond the Labyrinth and the City, into a forest frequently left undisturbed.

Much of it hadn’t remained tended to over the decades — a pity, truly — leaving the first stretch little more than a series of **decay**. A ways in, however, could be found one of the few spots that he’d bothered to recreate.

A small clearing, surrounded by a circle of trees - thorned vines and ivy that twisted amidst the other greenery. Typically dreary atmosphere was mute, replaced by some semblance of sunlight that flickered through the leaves overhead.

Silence, apart from the faint sounds of unnatural nature - a lingering breeze, the occasional _flutter_ of wings from a stray fairy…

Sprawled out across a wooden bench crafted for exactly this, a soft sigh fell past the King’s lips. Head lulled back, mismatched gaze wandering over the green landscape, specks of enchanted _glitter_ snagging aimless attention here and there.

Comfortable, tense form having slowly unwound itself - leather boots kicked up on the arm of the bench and crossed at the ankles. Scepter tapped rhythmically against his own leg, pattern found despite absent mindsets.

Peace and quiet.

Rare relaxation.

The little things that served to remind why this realm, despite growing weary of circumstance and persistent depressive spirals, was where he called **home**.

Tiny fairy landing on outstretched, gloved fingertips — half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as her wings fluttered in some mock greeting.

Far from the actual Fae Realms.

Nothing like Aboveground.

A place where _faerie-tale_ met _horror story_ on a regular basis.

The Underground.

**Home.**

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble Challenge Used: https://valkyras.tumblr.com/post/71340736673/100-drabble-challenge


End file.
